


Fire in the Sky

by hellkitty



Series: Sky and Ground [1]
Category: Transformers (Bayverse)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-20
Updated: 2010-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:09:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellkitty/pseuds/hellkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on Skyfire/Starscream, in Bayverse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire in the Sky

1\. Fire  
"Two solars," Skyfire said. "Can you believe it? Two solars between us and our Navigant."

Starscream shifted, nervously. He wished he shared Skyfire's confidence. To be honest, the Navigant scared him—left alone in the darkness of unnav'ed space, to find his own way home? For the first time without his quaterne? Not even on comm chatter? "Yes," he said, forcing an answering grin. "Two more solars."

Skyfire chattered happily, "Thundercracker says he's going to get back first, and have all of his stuff moved into the Seeker quarters before any of us arrive."

"He might." On a dead run, Thundercracker was the fastest, though Starscream was more maneuverable. If Thundercracker got a good heading, he could beat all of them home.

"I think 'Warp is kind of freaking out a bit about it. You know. I don't want to say he's scared, but…."

"He has a right to have a healthy respect," Starscream said, cautiously. He didn't want to let on his own fear, but he didn't want to mock Skywarp's concerns.

Skyfire laughed. "Always just a little stiff, aren't you, Starscream?"

"I am," he admitted, "not like you." He wished the envy didn't show in his voice. Skyfire was the smartest, the funniest, the most outgoing of the quaterne. Starscream often wondered if all of the abilities and personalities had been doled out first to Skyfire and then to the rest of them in ever-smaller portions.

"You're not…worried, are you?" Half-teasing. Only half. Skyfire wouldn't deliberately hurt his own quaternion.

"It would be foolish to underestimate the challenge of the Navigant," he said, feeling foolish.

"None of us are fools," Skyfire said, his voice a little softer. "But no sense borrowing trouble from the future. Plenty of time to worry about it then."

"Yes," Starscream said, dubious.

"I know," Skyfire leaned in, his voice tickling against the other jet's audio. "I know a way you can lighten up a little."

"I do not wish to lighten up. I am sufficiently light."

Skyfire laughed again, a pealing happy sound. Starscream wondered if he could ever laugh like that. Before he could respond, Skyfire leaned in and kissed him. A quick brushing of their mouths, nothing more, but it sent shivers through Starscream's body as if his energon had been electrified. Skyfire pulled away, smiling. "You like that?"

"I—uh, why?"

Skyfire laughed again. "Never seen you at a loss for a complete sentence, Starscream." He kissed him again, flicking the edge of his glossa against Starscream's labial plating. "I like you this way." Starscream closed his eyes, concentrating on the feel of Skyfire's mouth on his, his soft warm ventilation on his chest, his hand clumsy on Starscream's shoulder. He was otherwise frozen, afraid to move, afraid to break the magic of this moment. "Why?" Skyfire murmured, his hands beginning to trace the other jet's ailerons, "Because. You're my quaternion. You're,…so bloody innocent." He licked at Starscream's cheek, a bold move that caused the other jet to quiver.

"Innocent?" Starscream felt himself tremble.

Skyfire pulled back. "You've never done this, have you?"

"No, of course not. A warrior must…," Skyfire shut him up with another kiss, fiercer this time, probing into his mouth. Starscream's hands flew to Skyfire's shoulders, but he didn't know what he wanted to do—push the other jet away? Pull him closer? Keep him there? Just…keep him there.

Skyfire murmured in his audio. "Everyone else has." Starscream looked shocked, and then, hurt. Why not him? Why would they keep this from him?

"You and…." They weren't supposed to—they weren't allowed to—before the Navigant.

"Skywarp? Yes. Thundercracker too."

His shock that his quaterne had broken the rules was overridden by the shock of feeling left out."Not me….?" An ache swelled near his capacitor. Maybe they were just a trine with a glitch, as their master had said. Maybe he was the odd one out, the one who wouldn't complete the Seeker training. If they were already isolating him, cutting him off….

"They don't know how to approach you," Skyfire whispered. "You get shocked so easily."

"I am part of this quaterne," he said, helplessly. Stupidly.

"Yes," Skyfire breathed, and stroked the other jet's back, teasing the mounts of his engines until he quivered. "You are."

Starscream tried, clumsily, to repeat the same gentle stroking motion on Skyfire's mounts. He could feel immediately the difference between their experience, and even though he had followed tradition, and Skyfire hadn't, he felt embarrassed at his awkwardness. "I do not know what to do," he said, meekly.

Skyfire purred against him. Starscream could feel the vibration against his own chest. "Do what you want to do, Starscream."

"I do not know…," he repeated, ashamed of his own innocence.

Skyfire laughed against Starscream's mouth. "There is no training on this, Starscream. Just do what you think will feel good." His hands slid into the other jet's elbow joints, teasing the connecting cables. Starscream quivered again, and then, tentatively, pulled Skyfire's face closer to his. He probed hesitantly at Skyfire's mouth, feeling it part under his. Skyfire's hand stroked his head, encouraging him, keeping him close.

Starscream got a little bolder, running his hands down Skyfire's chest, into the sensitive joins of his armor plates, their mouths still locked. He heard Skyfire moan, softly, in his mouth. His hands traced the edges of Skyfire's interface hatch. Skyfire twitched. Starscream pulled away, nervously. "Did I hurt you? Did I press too far?"

Skyfire grabbed his hand and placed it back near his hatch. His voice was husky and strange and sent a strange thrill through Starscream's sensor net. "You," he said, "worry too much."

2.

Spark.

Starscream shuddered, a cry escaping his mouth only to be caught by Skyfire's. His first overload ripped through his sensor net like a beautiful weapon, cold and hard edged and scintillant. He felt Skyfire's sensor net ripple against his, under him, around him, through him with the special bond that quaternions had.

They lay together for a long while, tangled in each other's limbs. Skyfire stirred. He brushed one of Starscream's cheek flares with the back of one talon. "See? Nothing to worry about."

Starscream smiled, hesitantly. "You have done this with our…?"

"Yes." Skyfire teased Starscream's module's connector cables, making the other jet jump.

"But we're not allowed to…."

Skyfire frowned. "Now you worry about that? I knew the rules would catch up to you eventually." He slowly disconnected himself, stretching languorously. "You're always so uptight, Starscream," he said, only half teasing. "That's why neither of the others knew how to approach you."

"I am not," Starscream insisted. The overload still raced through his sensor net, like raw electricity, making him reckless. He pulled Skyfire against him, fiercely. "I…I want," the words froze on his lips, trembled there almost like droplets of melted ice. "I want to…." He ducked his head down, unable to say the words. But one hand traced the armor plating over Skyfire's spark chamber.

It was Skyfire's turn to look startled. "You want to spark link? With me?"

"Yes," he managed. "But we should not. It is not allowed. But after the Navigant, would you?"

Skyfire smiled, the sweetest smile Starscream had ever seen. Normally Skyfire's smile had a touch of wildness, of wickedness. "Why wait?"

"But we cannot! It is not allowed," the other jet repeated.

"Another silly superstition, Starscream. I'm surprised you still swallow that nonsense. No one else does."

"Then you have…with the others?"

Skyfire dropped his eyes. "No. I've never. But I want to." He pulled Starscream closer, into another kiss, his hands racing trails of fire down the other jet's body. "I want to with you." He placed his own hand over Starscream's spark chamber armor. "Do you even think you can retract it?"

Starscream bit his lip, concentrating. He wanted to do this, but he knew he shouldn't. Couldn't. It was not allowed. But Skyfire was always right—if he said it was another silly superstition, it was. And if Skyfire wanted to see him retract, he would. He would do anything for Skyfire. He leaned back against the wall, feeling the unusual sensation of those particular plates sliding against each other, and the sudden touch of air against his spark chamber. He gasped. Skyfire knelt over him, grinning his cheeky grin again. "Knew you could do it."

"And you?" Starscream challenged. His ventilation came in short bursts, the sensation of air against the hypersensitive metal of his spark chamber was intoxicating. Almost painful. Flirting on the edges of pain the way Skyfire flirted on the edges of lawlessness. Skyfire looked down, staring at the plates he had to move. After a moment, they shifted. He looked up, grinning triumphantly.

"Do you want to?" he asked. "Last chance to be the good boy."

"Yes," Starscream said, the tease in Skyfire's word strengthening his resolve. He hated being the 'good' one. Skyfire was the smart one, and Skywarp the sweet one and Thundercracker the tough one…it left him being…empty of all character, except the 'good' one. He cycled a deep ventilation. Skyfire leaned in closer, cupping Starscream's jaw with both hands. They both gasped as the chambers released and the fields of their sparks touched each other. He felt Skyfire's hands on his face, saw Skyfire's eyes, looking down at him, accepting him. The sparks' fields blended—Starscream could see the blue and gold of his mix with the more purple shade of Skyfire's spark, swirling in a faster and faster rush of energy.

The sparks flared up brightly, glowing enough to blind their optics, and they fell, it seemed, into each other. Starscream could feel the slightly different energy of Skyfire's sensor net, as if he had expanded to inhabit two bodies at once. But more than that, he was in Skyfire's mind. He could see the world…differently. Not just look at himself through Skyfire's optics, but see himself as Skyfire saw him. And he…was humbled. He could feel Skyfire's emotions, a mix of affection, respect and love, pouring out over him almost like a tangible web of colored lights. He could almost weep at the beauty, if it didn't revolve around him—so small, so unworthy, so always in the shadow of his quaterne-mates.

He wondered what Skyfire was feeling from him, and as soon as he wondered, he felt it, seeing Skyfire more familiarly through his own eyes, the adoration, bordering on worship, the near-envy he felt at Skyfire's easy success in everything like glittering crystals—not hard and hateful at all, but shiny reflective surfaces, like little mirrors.

He saw—felt—fragments of his life through a sort of double vision: his own memory and Skyfire's. He saw scenes he'd never seen—Skyfire and Skywarp, chasing each other across the skies, Thundercracker crying over…some loss. He knew, somehow, that if he tried, he could grasp that memory, climb into it, and discover what had upset Thundercracker so much that day. There was…no separation between them. No past differences. No obstacles. Just themselves, with their own stripped bare histories. And acceptance. Complete acceptance.

Starscream came back to himself crying. And alone.

3.Navigant  
They said nothing about it to the others or to each other. It was like a secret too deep for words. But Starscream could still swear he felt Skyfire's sensor net, some distant pinging echoes of his emotions. And before he wanted to think it was the solar of the Navigant, and there was no room in his processor for anything other than worry.

They took the trines first, a pair of mature Seekers taking each candidate and blanking his optics. They would fly the candidate to space, overpulse him to unconsciousness, and then deposit him in a distant sector. The task was simple—find your way home. As the trine teams diminished in number, the only two quaternes lost some of their cocky edge. First the jokes became thinner, then the wishes to the departing candidates more earnest, as if they hoped to claim some of that good wish for themselves. A thin bid: think kindly of me that we may come home. The both of us.

Skywarp took Starscream by the shoulder. "You'll be fine," he said, firmly. "Don't look so nervous."

Starscream shook his head. "I want us all to come back."

"We will," Skywarp said. Thundercracker nodded. "We all will."

Skyfire patted his other shoulder. "We're worried about you."

"Me?" He felt his capacitor clutch. Was his incompetence so obvious? Could they tell that he, the left out one, the one not truly of the trine, the Trine Plus Starscream and not a real quaterne at all, would fail? Was it written on his armor in some way they could read?

Thundercracker jerked his chin at Starscream. "Just worried you'll do this to yourself—get in a tizzy and panic."

"I—I shall not panic."

"Better not," Thundercracker growled, and then—the Seekers tapped him on the shoulder. With a last stern nod at the rest of his quaterne, Thundercracker hit his ignition and flew off with his Seekers. They took Skywarp next, who squeezed his hands tightly. "Don't panic," he said, earnestly. "We need you."

Skyfire gave Starscream a jaunty salute as they came for him. "Be back before you even come out of overpulse,"

"Skyfire—" Words he couldn't say, wanted to say, collided in his throat around a knot of something like fear.

"I know." He cracked a grin and flew off.

At last, they came for Starscream. His capacitor tic'd alarmingly. Do not panic, he told himself. Do not panic. You are not allowed to panic. It is forbidden. If you panic, you will not see them again: Skywarp. Thundercracker. Skyfire—Skyfire. He wanted nothing more than to be with Skyfire again. To touch their sparks again. He could do it. He wanted it so badly. He would do it. He would not panic.

He nodded grimly at his Seekers.

4\. Return

The cold was what woke him from the overpulse. He opened his eyes. Blackness. Blankness. He felt a knot of fear in his capacitor. Don't panic. He ran a diagnostic on his optics, struggling to ventilate evently. I t wasn't until he transformed and passed a hand in front of his face that he really believed that his optics were not malfunctioning.

It was that dark in space.

His comm was out. He'd known that was part of the Navigant, too, but he hadn't counted on how—lonely it felt. He shifted quickly back to his jet mode, the cold already biting into his exposed joints. He also knew how this worked—he knew he'd have no idea where they'd released him. He just hadn't known how…VAST it would be.

Calm, he told himself. Panic will not get you anywhere except dead.

He found two faint stars. Logged their relative positions and then, setting his chrono and speed, set off toward them. After regular intervals, he stopped, measured the shift in their relative positions. Marginal. They were very far away.

He turned and flew at an angle, logging two more points. Flew another interval. He repeated this several more times, creating a 3-D map, slowly, piece by piece. He began rotating the map methodically, checking it against his standard-issue astrogation charts. A few points that might be matches. Might be.

Home, he thought, heartsick. I want to be with the others. Thundercracker. Skywarp. Skyfire. Home. He wanted to be with his quaterne more than anything else in the universe right now: more than being a Seeker. More than his honor. More than his dream of being a warrior. He just wanted his quaterne.

Home. He felt a pull in one direction, as if something had a hold of his spark and was tugging him. This way. This way. It had Skyfire's voice. And Skywarp's. He altered his vector to that heading, and flew, fast and straight. Maybe it would take him to his death, but he would get there as fast as he could. He flew for what seemed like an eternity.

And then his astrogation popped up an exact match. And he knew where he was.

He would make it. He would make it. The whole quaterne had worried about him—the weak one, the fearful one. He had not let them down. He had proven himself.

It took all of his self-control to slow his descent through the atmosphere so that the sudden change in temperature didn't both crack his developing plates or scramble his circuits. After the cold of space, the atmosphere's heat—home's heat—felt like love.

He'd probably be the last to arrive, he thought, and they'd tease him for his cautious strategy, call him a scaredy-bird. He looked forward to it. He looked forward to Skyfire's obviously elaborated version of his Navigant, Thundercracker's downplaying it, Skywarp's silence. Home. His true home. His quaterne.

5\. Burn In

He saw Skywarp and Thundercracker as he landed, running out to him. He dropped to his robot mode. "Skyfire?" he asked, as they pulled him into a hug.

"We couldn't come escort you," Skywarp was saying. "They wouldn't let us."

"Not yet," Thundercracker responded to Starscream's question. "We got back within a cycle of each other. Been a bit more than that and now you."

"He should be back! He was taken before I was."

Thundercracker shrugged. "We aren't dropped all at the same distance," he said, in his voice of solid common sense. "Probably just take him longer to traverse."

"And more time to think up a good story that'll kick ours to pieces," Skywarp added, grinning.

Thundercracker was probably right, Starscream told himself. As the weakest of the quaterne, he always did worry too much. They'd always told him that. "Everyone else?"

"Three others not back yet. No one's willing to call them lost. Yet." Skywarp said, hinting that neither should Starscream.

Starscream tried to ignore the sick feeling. "Skyfire."

"He'll be fine," Thundercracker insisted. A little too strongly. Starscream could hear the worry in his voice.

Starscream looked around. "No one is here. Why is no one here?" He had expected—something. Their trainers, at least.

"They'd be waiting for cycles," Thundercracker said. "Time enough to congratulate us later."

"We're here," Skywarp said. "That's all that matters."

"Yes," Starscream said, but he couldn't help but feel the knot of worry and fear swell from his chassis to his throat. He felt cold, even through the heating his passage through the atmosphere had given him. He looked down and saw his hands shaking. Skywarp noticed too.

"Low on energon, huh? Let's get you some."

"No, I am fine."

Thundercracker gave him a friendly buffet in the back of the head that almost sent him sprawling. "Nonsense. It's a long flight. It's draining. Now be mortal like the rest of us and accept some help." Skywarp caught him before he fell, grinning at him. "Knew you would do it," he whispered, proudly.

Starscream jerked upright. He felt…hot. Burning. Was this a symptom of energon depletion? No. Not like this: his plates burned, like an atmospheric re-entry. Only worse. He touched himself, but his hands read his temperature as normal. But still—hot. Unbearable. Scorching.

"Oh no," he heard a voice behind him. He forced himself to look. A distant orange-white smudge in the sky. Coming in too fast, too hard. "He needs to pull up," someone else said. Starscream became dimly aware of a growing crowd—full fledged Seekers and lesser flyers—the intersystem flights who never had the courage to take the Navigant—growing and rippling with horror. "No comm," someone said. "Navigant candidate."

Starscream clutched at Skywarp, unaware that his talons were scraping gouges in Skywarp's armor. He tried to speak, but he couldn't get any words to come. He could only watch with everyone else as the orange smudge grew and glowed red, then white hot. He felt like his armor was going to melt. Like his processor was overheating. He couldn't walk; he couldn't make out where he was. Was he standing on the launch platform or was he tumbling through the sky, a white-hot ball of pain and fear? He felt his internal systems run cold with blind terror, but his surface seemed scorching hot. He half expected to see his paint blacken as he stood, eyes fixed on the burning star. "Skyfire," he choked. He felt Skywarp's hands tighten over his shoulders, felt Thundercracker grab his other arm.

Then the burning star burst across the sky in horrible silence, the exploding pieces seeming to travel in agonizing slow motion from the distance. Starscream shrieked, his mind and his heart tearing themselves apart, dying.

With Skyfire.

6\. Trine

He heard a voice. He didn't recognize it. And he heard Skywarp's soft voice, answering. "I don't know."

"But there's a possibility?" the strange voice said. Starscream's world was still black. He couldn't see. He couldn't feel ground under his feet, or under his back or anywhere, as if he were somehow floating in space. Was he dead?

In space. Oh. Skyfire. And he felt Skyfire's explosion again. He could feel, dimly, faintly, a body responding. His body? Something, twitching. Something, making a low animal noise of pain.

"Yes." Thundercracker's voice. Were they both here with him? Were they dead, too? Where was Skyfire?

The strange voice sounded angry. "They knew it was not allowed. There's a reason for it. This."

He heard that noise of pain again, louder this time, closer. "Starscream," he heard Skywarp's gentle voice, "we have to know. Did you spark link with Skyfire." He felt his whole body shudder, finally felt the yielding surface of a repair cradle underneath him. "I--."

"Yes." Thundercracker interpreted. "That's a yes."

The strange voice sounded hard. "He will not survive. You shall have to accustom yourselves to being a Binary."

"No," Skywarp said. "We are a Trine. He will survive."

"It will be harder to adjust if you try to keep him with you."

"Then," Thundercracker said, his voice angry, "we'll adjust hard. He is one of us."

"I can order you to."

"Order us, then. I will defy it."

"I will not leave him, either," Skywarp added.

"I will give you a cycle to say your farewell and rethink your decision," the voice said. A Seeker, it must be. A trainer. Starscream heard footsteps walk away, numbly.

Starscream felt a hand close over one of his. He splayed his fingers away. "Let me go," he moaned. "My fault." If only he had not… HE had been the one who had wanted to spark link. Skyfire had even given him a chance to hesitate. To rethink. Completely unlike Skyfire. He'd gone ahead anyway. His foolishness. His vanity. His…desire. His throat whined again. It felt like a separate part of him—not connected. Not him. Just this device in which he, a ball of failure, writhed.

Skywarp's hand tightened on his, regardless of his effort. "You are one of us, Starscream. We will not leave you."

"I want to die." His voice sounded childish. "I want to be with Skyfire."

Thundercracker's voice was rough. "We need you here with us. Please." Thundercracker never said please. His optics came back online. Repair bay. Thundercracker and Skywarp, their faces full of grief and concern. A double burden—they had lost one of their quaternions, and stood on the brink of losing another. Too much.

"I killed him!" The words tore out of his chest in a ragged sob. "If I had not, Skyfire…"

"You really think you changed the way Skyfire flew?" Thundercracker's voice was soft, but his logic was his usual hardness.

Skywarp added, "Starscream, you were with him. In a way neither of us were. You could feel him, but he also could feel you. Don't you think you comforted him?"

Starscream sobbed, but their words penetrated. The spark link hadn't changed, probably one bit, how Skyfire had flown his Navigant. It hadn't made Starscream fly badly. And if…and if it allowed him to share Skyfire, to be with him in his moment of fear and pain and death, if he brought any comfort at all….

It was a thin shred of hope to grab onto. But still. He was a poor substitute for Skyfire. "You would rather it had been me than him."

Thundercracker sighed, impatient. "We'd rather it had been neither of you. It's cruel to even think of a choice."

"But you had interf—interfaced with him and…not with me…." His voice trailed off. It was too much effort to say the words.

Skywarp laughed, embarrassed. "You know how hard it is to refuse Skyfire something he wants." He caught himself. "…Wanted." His face crumpled.

Thundercracker added, "He wanted to be your first. He asked us to wait."

"Was he your…?"

Another embarrassed squirm. Thundercracker answered, "Guess we all have that in common."

"But I was the last."

A quick flash of anger crossed Thundercracker's face. "Stop looking for ways to feel bad about this. Dishonors his memory to have you make it all about you."

Starscream flinched as if Thundercracker had slapped him. Skywarp added, trying to soften the blow, "Starscream, we have enough grief right now without looking for more. How can we make you realize that you are not a lesser of us? How can we prove that to you?" Skywarp's face hovered close to his, so familiar. So close to Skyfire's face in shape. Even the smile, he knew, would be the same, if Skywarp ever smiled again. He reached up with his free hand which shook, and traced the too-familiar lines. Primus. Seeing his quaternions would be a constant reminder of Skyfire. "Sky," he said, leaving the name unfinished. Skywarp leaned in and kissed him, gently. Not the aggressive sexual kiss Skyfire had given him, but a hesitant one, seeking only to comfort him. Starscream's arms came up, trembling, pulling Skywarp on top of him, wrapping his arms around his quaternion's body, clinging to him, all of his remaining strength pushed to his arms to keep Skywarp with him. He released the kiss as his energy faded, ebbed; burying his face in Skywarp's shoulder.

A hand lifted his jaw, and Thundercracker's mouth was on his, rougher, but still full of desire. Starscream whimpered, tears overspilling his optics. He was too weak to respond. He felt his vision blurring out. He forced some words to his vocalizer. "I think," he said, choppily, "that you should leave me now."

"You're one of us," Thundercracker said, breathlessly. "I know how to prove it." He tapped Skywarp on the shoulder. "It could bring him back." Skywarp nodded, grimly. He pushed easily out of Starscream's weak embrace.

"At the same time?" he asked. Thundercracker nodded. "Best way." Skywarp reached down to hold one of Starscream's limp hands, forcing his spark chamber's protective armor to retract. Starscream felt Skywarp's fingers squeeze his, hard, at the effort. Thundercracker did the same. "Now," Thundercracker said, "Your turn."

"I cannot," he said, miserably.

"You can," Thundercracker said. "You are one of us. We do not give up."

Starscream bit his lip, his visuals flickering again. He caught a concerned look from Skywarp—must look worse than he imagined. But could he give up? I shall, he decided, try. And when I fail, I shall go to my death knowing that I was a failure and they are better off without me. And they shall know. And I shall hope—hope—that Skyfire will forgive me. His armor slid back, softly, almost as if it wanted to. The two others leaned in, Skywarp brushing his cheek with one hand, Thundercracker leaning over to kiss Skywarp. Their sparks—three of them—touched.

The same swirling as before, the colors mingling and sparkling together without muddying. The same warm flow of energy, like a soft breeze. And then, the sparking flash, and…Starscream was with them. And they were with him, sharing his memories, feeling his pain, feeling the loss of Skyfire ripping through his sensor net, feeling his fierce secret joy that Skyfire had chosen to spark link with him, his insecurities. They took it with him, from him, some weight of this pain. And they shared—their fear of losing him, as well as Skyfire. Their admiration at things he thought they never noticed—his maneuverability in the air, his determination and discipline. Things he thought had marked him out as weak they thought made him strong. And he felt their love—wild, powerful and yet somehow sweet. And the aching emptiness that would have—should have been Skyfire was not filled, but it was, somehow, endurable. They did not ask him to give up his grief, only to share it with them. They would never ask him to forget Skyfire.

He stirred, softly, murmuring an inchoate word.

"Welcome back," Skywarp murmured in his ear, closing his chamber.

"They shall reclassify us as a Trine," Thundercracker said, fiercely, "but among ourselves, we shall always be quaternions."

Starscream sobbed. He had always wanted to belong. To be accepted. But not—not at this price.

And then he knew nothing.

7\. Epilogue: Armor

 

Thundercracker came to their shared quarters three solars later, a cycle later than usual. Starscream was still on light duty, excused from training, but just at the verge of aching to do something. They had four recharge stations—they'd insisted upon it and the trainers had probably just enough spark and respect for their loss not to question it. He called Skywarp over to Starscream's recharge. Thundercracker opened one of his storage compartments. "Got these," he said, "don't ask how."

Starscream reached a hand to touch them. "Skyfire's." Not a question. He knew. He could feel it, as if Skyfire's spark inhabited the metal. Thundercracker nodded.

"Three pieces. All I could get."

The pieces were blackened and twisted and warped by the heat. It was agonizing to think how that must have hurt Skyfire. I wish, Starscream heard himself thinking, that Skyfire was dead before he had to feel this.

"You choose first," Thundercracker said to him. Starscream looked at the pieces, trying to place them. That one was a bit of forearm plating. That was part of his collar armor. And that—that was the cover to his spark chamber. His hand hovered over the last. He looked up. Thundercracker smiled.

"Go on, take it. Thought you'd want it." When Starscream's hand still hovered, Thundercracker snatched up the collar armor. Skywarp took the forearm. They both looked at him expectantly. His hand closed over it.

He opened up his chest, and with a wince, tore the cover of his spark chamber off, and lay Skyfire's over it. He hissed as his body chemistry adapted the metal. But it was over in moments, less time than Skyfire had suffered burning through the atmosphere. For Skyfire, he'd take this pain. "He shall be part of us," Starscream said.

Skywarp added, "He already is."

Starscream felt the metal burning into his chamber, searing against his spark. He had learned. Despite what they said, he had killed Skyfire. He had gotten too close, shared his weakness with Skyfire, and Skyfire had died. Perhaps during the spark link his incompetence, his fear, had transferred to Skyfire, and he had gotten in return the other's boldness, courage, self-assurance. This, he swore, would not happen again. He would never again force himself, force his weakness, on another. He would not. The others might be able to sense his pain, through the spark link, but he knew they could never take it away. And he hoarded it, and its terrible lesson, jealously to himself. Never again.

 


End file.
